


Dream Interpretation

by tobiyos



Series: Kinktober 2020 [12]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: “Mishima,” Sakamoto murmurs into his neck.Mishima knows he’s asleep, but he tilts his head back into the touch and answers, “What?”“Mmm,” Sakamoto hums. “Love you.”
Relationships: Mishima Yuuki/Sakamoto Ryuji
Series: Kinktober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970752
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Dream Interpretation

**Author's Note:**

> Oop-  
> Not me skipping day twelve and posting this on the 13th no sir couldn't be me.  
> Um... anyway I've been on a weird Ryuji/Mishima kick lately so I've got a couple more of these to hammer out before the month is over. Haha... Mishima and Ryuji comfort characters go brrr.  
> Kinktober 12: Somnophilia

Mishima thinks being a third year has its perks. At least, it does for him.

Shujin is as organized as it always is—which is to say _not at all_ —even when they’ve had a new principal for the past year. Of course, plans for the second years’ trip to Hawaii has been postponed and cancelled _twice_ , before the student body president pulls Mishima aside and offers him a chance to chaperone. And who is he to turn down another trip to Hawaii?

He already thinks it’s strange Shujin asked _him_ to chaperone—it’s not like he’s on the student council—but he thinks it’s even _more_ strange that he opens the door to his hotel room to Ryuji Sakamoto sitting on his bed.

“Yo!” Sakamoto says, with one of his long legs crossed over the other. He lifts a hand and smiles, blond hair catching in the sunlight coming through the hotel room’s large window. He looks good, has stopped dyeing his hair for a little while and the roots are starting to peek black against the yellow, and Mishima flushes because it’s _Sakamoto._ In his room. On his bed—

“What are you doing in here?” Mishima asks, setting his bag down on the floor. His brain is reeling, and he’s very resolutely pushing down the fact that he had a _massive_ crush on Sakamoto last year. Mishima knows he’s basically an open book, and he has no intention of letting Sakamoto know how many times he woke up with the lingering feeling of bleach blond hair between his fingers.

Sakamoto shrugs, and bounces his foot on his leg. “Dunno. ‘s kinda boring that we have our rooms to ourselves. You’re kinda the only one here that knows me.”

Mishima sits down a little stiffly on the couch across from the bed. It would be weird if he sat right next to him right? That would be weird.

“…you hear what I said?” Sakamoto says, and Mishima snaps out of it, realizing that he’s been spacing out as he thinks.

“Sorry! W-what’s—”

“I said,” Sakamoto says, with a grin. He leans forward to put his hands on his knees. Mishima stares resolutely at his face, even though Sakamoto’s shirt falls forward with him and he can see the edge of his pale collarbone. “You should let me stay here! It’ll be fun! We can… I don’t know. Kill time together.”

Mishima can feel his face getting hot. Sakamoto wants to spend time? With him? That’s… Oh, god, he definitely still likes Sakamoto. “Aren’t you friends with… um… what’s her name? The second year?”

“Futaba?” Sakamoto says, and then wrinkles his nose a bit. “I mean, yeah, we’re friends. But she circulates with her little nerd buddies! I never have any clue what they’re talking about.”

Mishima nods. He’s interacted with Futaba on a few occasions, and he’s always determined to hold onto the thread of the conversation because she’s actually really cute, and he’d be stoked to land a nerd girlfriend like her, but eventually she starts talking about things Mishima doesn’t even know how they got on the topic of. At this point, he’s all but given up on her. “I guess you can stay here if you want but—”

“Woo!”

“— _but_. I’ve only got one bed. You’ll have to go back before curfew.”

Sakamoto waves his hand. “I can just stay here! Bros share beds—Ren and I used to do it all the time! Afraid of a little platonic cuddling, Mishima?”

Mishima has died and gone to hell, and the devil is tempting him. That has to be the only explanation for this. “I might be!” he protests.

Sakamoto laughs. “It’ll be fun. We’ll have fun!”

Mishima is not having fun.

He absolutely _cannot_ sleep, even if he spent a majority of the day walking up and down the beach with Sakamoto, looking for students up to no good. The sun had felt nice, even if Mishima thinks he’s on his way to developing a burn on the back of his neck. He’s exhausted, but Sakamoto is pressed up against his back like a space heater, and even after Mishima had kicked the blankets off of himself, he still feels too hot.

They hadn’t started like this. Sakamoto had been spread out and face down on his side of the mattress while Mishima played little games on his phone. He’d waited until Sakamoto’s breathing had evened out—afraid if he tried to climb in next to him while he was awake, he’d loose all of his nerve—and had finally gotten up to turn the lights off. When he’d climbed back into bed, Sakamoto had made a soft sound and thrown his arm out like he was reaching for something. That something was apparently Mishima, who’s hips he’d grabbed and pulled into the firmest (and only) cuddle Mishima had ever felt.

Mishima had squirmed a bit, and called his name quietly, but apparently Sakamoto slept like the dead, and Mishima was stuck.

He takes a deep breath and moves fingers down to grab gently at where Sakamoto still has an arm wrapped around his waist. He tugs, and Sakamoto murmurs something softly that sounds strangely like _Mishima_ , and a shiver tears through his body before he can control it. Sakamoto breathes hot air onto the back of Mishima’s neck, and Mishima shivers again, tries to control himself from just thrashing out and waking Sakamoto up that way.

Because as much as he’s uncomfortable, he can’t overlook the fact that it’s Sakamoto’s breath on his neck, the warm heat of his chest against Mishima’s back. He’d be perfectly happy if only he can _sleep_. And maybe he’ll feel a little better when he wakes up in the morning to Sakamoto, soft with sleep and tousled blond hair, his voice raspy when he says, “ _Good morning, Mishima._ ”

Mishima bites a groan off into a hand. He’s not going to get hard right now and _definitely_ not because he thought of Sakamoto with a stupid sexy morning voice. He takes a few deep breaths and tries to relax his whole body. It makes him lean back a little more into Sakamoto’s solid chest, which is honestly fine, especially when Sakamoto makes a humming noise and presses his nose into Mishima’s skin.

“Mishima,” Sakamoto murmurs into his neck.

Mishima knows he’s asleep, but he tilts his head back into the touch and answers, “What?”

“Mmm,” Sakamoto hums. “Love you.”

So, Mishima’s plan of just relaxing and going to sleep just went out of the window.

Sakamoto’s not… he’s not actually awake, is he? He shouldn’t be—had slept through Mishima doing way more—but he remembers reading about sleep cycles, and maybe Sakamoto has passed into one of the lighter points of his slumber. Yeah, that has to be it, he rationalizes, because there’s no way a conscious Sakamoto would be saying his loves him. It’s got to be some kind of mean prank Sakamoto is pulling on him.

The hand around his waist squeezes tighter, pulling Mishima back closer against Sakamoto’s body and _oh_. Oh that’s definitely his dick pressed low against Mishima’s back. Good. Great. “Love you, Mishim…a.”

Mishima holds his breath and waits for Sakamoto to say anything else, but apparently, that’s all he’s got without being prompted. He rolls a couple of thoughts around in his head, before he drops his hand to cover Sakamoto’s and whispers, “L-love you, too.”

That seems to make Sakamoto hum happily, and before Mishima can really parse what’s happening, Sakamoto’s mouth is at the nape if his neck, just brushing gently. “Love you,” he says, into Mishima’s skin, with a soft kiss. “Love you.”

“ _Sakamoto_ ,” Mishima breathes. There’s something sick about the way Sakamoto is admitting this to him in his sleep, tucked behind Mishima so he can’t even see him. He should wake him up, should tell him to go back to his room, curfew be damned, but every thought in Mishima’s head dies where it is when Sakamoto’s arm moves and his hand slips slowly up the front of Mishima’s shirt. “Sakamoto?” Mishima says again, a little more alarmed. Sakamoto’s fingers slide warm across his stomach, right over his belly button, and Mishima bites back a sound.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Sakamoto murmurs, and Mishima thinks the way heat pools in his stomach at the endearment is a little embarrassing. More pressing than that though is Sakamoto’s hands against his skin, and the soft press of his mouth over the back of Mishima’s neck, the way his _dick_ is pressing against the curve of of Mishima’s _ass_.

“Sakamoto,” Mishima says weakly. “You need to wake up.”

“Pretty mouth of yours,” Sakamoto huffs, in a way that definitely just sounds like sleep talking. Mishima’s brain whites out. Is Sakamoto… _dreaming_ about him? “Love you,” Sakamoto says again, and presses a kiss right behind Mishima’s ear. It kind of tickles, but more embarrassing than that, it makes him _want_ , especially when Sakamoto’s hand moves up his stomach and over his chest, gently grazing a nipple.

“ _Nnn_ ,” Mishima bites out, and tips his head forward, trying to curl around himself. “Sakamoto, you have to stop,” he mutters. He doesn’t _want_ him to stop, but Mishima feels gross, like he’s taking advantage of Sakamoto’s vulnerability. He doesn’t know he’s doing any of this, and he’s said he loves him _way_ too many times now, and there’s only so his already weak constitution can take.

Sakamoto, being asleep, doesn’t hear him, and his hand slips away from Mishima’s chest, trailing fire down his stomach in its wake. Mishima bites down on a gasp when Sakamoto presses gently at his cock through his pajama pants, and Mishima shakes his head, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Sakamoto,” he snaps, finally, and feels exactly when Sakamoto wakes up, his eyelashes brushing against the hot skin of Mishima’s neck, body going stiff.

“Huh?” Sakamoto says groggily, sounding confused. He’s not moving though, and Mishima can still feel his nose pressed against his neck. Mishima tries imagining being in his position, waking up to his hand pressed flat against his friends half hard dick, his own erection slotted up behind them.

Sakamoto’s hand moves, just barely, and before he can really stop himself, Mishima reaches down and puts his hand over Sakamoto’s, freezing it there. Slowly, just barely, he grinds back against Sakamoto’s cock and shivers when his groan hits Mishima’s ear.

“Sorry,” Sakamoto whispers, and his breath curls against Mishima’s ear. “I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” Mishima whispers back, and half buries his face in the pillow when Sakamoto moves his hand against the front of Mishima’s pants. “It’s… you don’t…” He swallows around a dry mouth. “You don’t have to stop.”

Sakamoto stops moving again, and Mishima has a moment where he realizes he could have been _wrong_ , and a little stupid, because even if Sakamoto is dreaming about him, that doesn’t mean he _wants_ this. Mishima has had a dream or two about classmates he’s barely spoken to, and in his head he recognizes that Sakamoto has just spent the whole day with him. Of course, he’d dream about Mishima.

“Are you sure?” Sakamoto says quietly. He sounds oddly vulnerable, like he’s not sure if Mishima is actually saying yes. “I didn’t really mean to—”

“Don’t,” Mishima whispers. He hates the way his voice breaks on the syllable. “Don’t say that, just…” He grabs Sakamoto by the wrist. “Just touch me. Please.”

Sakamoto’s breath hits the back of his neck again in a sigh, and gently, his hand twitches and slides, following the outline of Mishima’s hard cock in his pants.

“ _Ngh_ ,” Mishima pants. He shouldn’t say anything, should keep his mouth shut while Sakamoto does _whatever_ , but he’s always been shit at keeping his mouth shut, even when he should. “You were dreaming about me,” he whispers.

Sakamoto hums into his neck, kisses the top of his spine so gently Mishima wonders if it was a mistake. Sakamoto’s hand slides up towards his stomach and then back down, his fingertips pushing past the elastic of his pants. “I dream about you a lot,” he admits.

“Really?” Mishima says, and gasps when Sakamoto wraps his hand around the base of his cock. “What do you dream about?”

“Your voice,” Sakamoto says against his skin, hand sliding up his dick, and back down, slow and a little dry. It still feels better than Mishima ever thought it would. “Your hands… fuck… your _legs_.”

“My legs?” Mishima laughs and reaches a hand up to lick over his palm, and then he reaches down and slides it up his shaft, hand fitting on top of Sakamoto’s as he fists over his dick.

“Mhm,” Sakamoto says. “You’ve, um. You have really nice thighs.”

 _My thighs_? Mishima thinks deliriously, and gasps when Sakamoto squeezes tighter, the pressure of his hand mind numbingly good. He seems to sense Mishima likes it, speeds up the pace of his hand until Mishima is panting, burying his face in the pillows. “M-my thighs are just—ah, _ah_ , Sakamoto—they’re just from v-volleyball.”

“They’re _big_ ,” Sakamoto says, and Mishima feels his leg slide up against Mishima’s between his legs and Mishima grinds back on it helplessly. “Doesn’t matter how you got ‘em. They’re just, fuck, man, they’re beautiful.”

The praise hits Mishima like a freight train, he can feel his orgasm winding up from inside of him. “Sakamoto,” Mishima whines. He doesn’t want Sakamoto to stop, not at all, and Sakamoto understands, kisses him on the back of the neck with a sharp intake of breath as he hisses, “ _You’re_ beautiful.” And Mishima gasps, body jerking forward as he comes, nearly painfully with Sakamato’s hand around his cock. Sakamoto strokes him through it, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to his skin, and Mishima moans and shakes, the hand under his body reaching out so he can clutch at the hotel sheets.

It feels like Sakamoto has completely wiped his brain clean, all of his limbs feel strangely light, even when he has to huff and reach down to bat Sakamoto’s hand away from his oversensitive dick.

“S-sorry,” Sakamoto says, and the hand moves to just rest gently on Mishima’s hip, his thumb stroking gently over the skin there.

“Don’t apologize,” Mishima pants, and gets his wits in order enough to push his hips back again, grinding into Sakamoto’s erection. Sakamoto hisses, and the grip on Mishima’s hip gets a little harder. “Do you wanna…” He’s not quite sure what he’s asking, if Sakamoto even wants to do anything with him, but he’s seen porn, and Sakamoto said he liked his legs…

Mishima swallows and reaches back enough to find Sakamoto’s cock in his pants. “Do you want to fuck my thighs?” he asks quietly.

Sakamoto groans, and his hips jerk forward seemingly involuntarily, as the grip on Mishima’s hip goes so hard it’s bruising. “Fuck, Mishima.”

“You don’t have to,” Mishima follows quickly. “It’s just, you didn’t seem to be _un_ affected, and I was just thinking about it—”

“Fuck yeah,” Sakamoto says quietly. There’s another kiss to Mishima’s neck. “Please.”

Mishima lifts his hip off of the bed so Sakamoto can help him squirm out of his soiled pants and flushes when he feels his bare skin brush against blankets. Sakamoto can’t even see his skin but he’s naked from the waist down, pants scrunched up underneath his knees.

Sakamoto’s hand flits down his hip and over his thigh, pressing at muscle and gathering Mishima’s skin to squeeze. Mishima pants a bit, cock working up again with the new sensation, and when Sakamoto grazes his nails over Mishima’s legs, he _keens_.

“Wish I could be between your thighs,” Sakamoto says quietly, his hand leaving Mishima’s skin for the sound of his shuffling his waistband lower on his hips. Mishima feels the wet head of Sakamoto’s dick press against the hot skin of his back and he lets another full body shiver take him. “I could suck your cock, you could press your pretty thighs up against the sides of my head.”

Mishima moans quietly, the feeling of Sakamoto stroking his dick against the top of Mishima’s ass making his skin run hot. He doesn’t move, doesn’t want Sakamoto to stop talking or to snap his dick in half, so he lets Sakamoto pull him further up the bed, and press fingers down and around his thighs. They slide between his legs and even though Mishima has never been particularly sensitive, it feels almost as good as Sakamoto’s hands on his cock did, the pads of his fingers a little rough against the soft skin between his thighs.

“You always wear these baggy fuckin’ pants,” Sakamoto says, and Mishima feels his dick slide gently between his thighs, fever hot. “But those volleyball uniforms don’t hide jack shit.”

Mishima knows, has appreciated some of the other members on his team’s physiques before, but never the way Sakamoto had apparently liked seeing his legs.

“ _Shit_ ,” Sakamoto groans, when Mishima presses his thighs together a little tighter at the first push in. “Shit, _fuck_ , Mishima your legs.”

Mishima leans his head back against Sakamoto’s chest, taking a shuddering breath. His dick is hard again, drooling precum onto their sheets, but Mishima doesn’t care, not when Sakamoto grinds his hips and pushes his dick up against Mishima’s balls. It feels like he’s fucking high, or something close to it, when Sakamoto’s hand lands back on his hip and slides his dick in the little space in his thigh, rocking Mishima forward. It feels _good_ , almost better than anything he’s ever felt. He’s feeling a little stupid, a little brave, so he tips his head back with a shuddering breath and says, “Sak- _ah_. Sakamoto, I’ve wanted to f-fuck you since our second year.” Sakamoto groans in his ear, hips slamming into the underside of Mishima’s ass. “Ngh! You w-were always so _touchy_ but, ah, ah, you never seemed to _like_ me—”

“I want to,” Sakamoto says, and his hand climbs higher, sweeping up Mishima’s face so he can grip at his jaw. “I want to fuck you _so bad_.”

“You can,” Mishima gasps, on another pass of Sakamoto’s dick. “You _should_.”

Sakamoto grips his face and turns his head and there’s a mouth on Mishima’s, Sakamoto’s tongue pushing past his lips. Mishima jerks his hips back when Sakamoto pushes through his thighs, lets him fuck into his mouth with his tongue and swallows Sakamoto’s long moan when he comes, coating the way too hot skin between Mishima’s legs.

“ _I love you_ ,” Sakamoto gasps into his mouth, but he keeps pushing his hips, keeps kissing Mishima until he’s breathless and whining, the come between his thighs starting to cool slightly.

Sakamoto seems to come back to himself, pulling his mouth away from Mishima’s with a quiet slick sound that makes Mishima’s dick twitch, and then Sakamoto’s hand is moving again, back down past his hard cock to dip fingers between his thighs.

Mishima peels his eyes open to Sakamoto’s face half in his view, pink mouth wide and panting and eyes swallowed by his pupils, and he nearly comes at the sight.

Sakamoto’s got him though, pulling come sticky fingers out from between Mishima’s thighs to curl a fist around his still sensitive dick, and Mishima tips his head back with a groan as he comes a second time. It’s longer than the first, so intense he can’t control the way he shouts, brain an endless loop of reminding himself that it’s Sakamoto’s come between his thighs, on his dick. He wants it in his mouth, he thinks deliriously, all over his face and down his throat and his orgasm intensify, body curling forward.

The room is quiet after that, just Sakamoto and Mishima’s breathing as Mishima tries to remember who and where he is, when a hand wraps around Mishima’s arm, tugging him back to lean against Sakamoto’s chest.

Mishima turns on his side so he can bury his face in Sakamoto’s neck, and Sakamoto pets soothingly over his hair, chin rested quietly against his head.

“Go to sleep,” Sakamoto says quietly, and Mishima thinks he’s never heard a better idea in his _life_. “I won’t… I mean I’m not gonna—”

“It’s okay,” Mishima says, and snuggles into him closer. “I mean, not now, but later… If you want to.”

He feels Sakamoto nodding against his head.

When he wakes up in the morning, half naked and pressed into Sakamoto’s chest, he watches sunlight hit soft sleeping features and thinks, happily, _Good morning._

**Author's Note:**

> Am I really writing a Ryuji/Mishima fic if I'm not mentioning the fixation I think Ryuji would have on Mishima's legs? No.
> 
> Anyway, for updates and shit my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos) and if you want to hear me horny rambling randomly (and me trying to get into writing threads) my [NSFW Twitter.](https://twitter.com/h0ney_bunns). Thanks for reading!


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